


White Christmas

by GoldenDaydreams



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Child, Christmas Fluff, Connor and RK900 Are Bros, Fluff, Just An Excuse To Write Our Dudes With A Baby, M/M, Snowed In, no beta we die like men, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 08:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17179391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams
Summary: Gavin, Hank, Connor, and RK900 are mostly stuck in the precinct due to the terrible weather. Still, someone managed to abandon a child outside their doors. The four of them take care of the little one while waiting for the roads to clear.(I meant to have this out pre-Christmas, but- here we are.)





	White Christmas

“It’s that time of the year, dipshits,” Gavin proclaimed, standing on his chair, one foot on his desk to keep the chair from spinning too much. The schedule had come out less than an hour ago for the next two weeks, everyone eager to see who would be getting Christmas off.” “Guess who got Christmas off?”  
  
“Fuck off, Gavin,” Hank threw a wadded up piece of paper at him. “Seriously, it’s your rotation?”  
  
“Yes it is, and everyone knows that I find the best part about having Christmas off, is that I can get something out of it. Who wants me to work for them, and what are you going to give me to do it?”  
  
“I’ve given you like fifteen years of friendship,” Tina chimed in. “Do me a solid.”  
  
“Psht, it’s like you think this is some kind of wonderful time of the year when people just give you things-”  
  
“It is,” Tina shouted. “God, you had a fucked up childhood.”  
  
Gavin smirked, and shot her the finger guns. “You’re working for sure.”  
  
“Bitch,” she mouthed at him.  
  
“I’ll buy your coffee for a week,” Ben Collins said.  
  
Gavin shrugged. “Solid ice breaker, who can beat it?”  
  
“I’ll buy lunch for two days,” Officer Person said.  
  
“Coffee gift card with like seventeen dollars on it, and a pack of gum,” Officer Lewis said.  
  
“That isn’t even a serious offer, I hope you enjoy working Christmas,” Gavin replied. “You are all letting me down this year.”  
  
“One hundred dollars,” Chris chimed in. “I just had a kid man, baby’s first Christmas, take pity.”  
  
“Do you think I’m soft?” Gavin scoffed. “Anyone else?”  
  
“Reed! Get down from there!” Fowler shouted. “And why are none of my detectives doing any work?”  
  
Everyone quickly returned to task, and muffled conversation and the clacking of keyboards became the background noise of the precinct once again. Gavin checked Fowler’s office to ensure the man wasn’t paying attention before he turned in his seat, and lobbed the wad of paper that Hank had thrown at him at Chris. The man looked up from his work.  
  
“I want that hundred in cash,” Gavin said before returning to his own work.  
  
::  
  
Inches of snow had fallen on the four days before Christmas, and a blizzard hit Christmas Eve that made it so the skeleton crew of officers working at the precinct had a treacherous drive into work. There were only a few people working in Homicide. So it was mostly sitting around, doing old paperwork until Captain Fowler emerged from his office with a folder in hand. “Suspected foul play out on a lake, who wants it?”  
  
Neither Hank nor Reed did, but they both stuck out their fist, tapping it against their palms three times. Reed, predictably, went rock- Hank went paper.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” Reed muttered, and stood. “We’ll take it.”  
  
RK900 went to fetch the folder, while Reed pulled on his leather jacket.  
  
“You know,” RK900 stated conversationally. “You need a warmer jacket. You’re going to catch a cold like that.”  
  
“Piss off, tin head. What the hell do you know?”  
  
RK900 averted his eyes to the wall, and Hank could practically see him counting to ten. “Very well, Detective. Lead the way.”  
  
“One of these days, we’ll be called out to a homicide because your brother is going to murder Gavin,” Hank said.  
  
“There is a zero percent chance of that happening,” Connor said, with a smirk that said he knew something Hank did not.  
  
::  
  
RK900 and Gavin returned almost three hours later. And not in the same state in which they left.  
  
"What the hell happened to you?" Hank asked, staring at Gavin who shuffled in soaking wet, draped in a silver foil emergency blanket. Gavin didn't even respond, just continued shuffling along toward the locker rooms with his chattering teeth. Instead, Hank turned his attention to RK900 who watched his partner with a spinning red LED. "What happened out there, Nines?"  
  
"You know we went to the suspected homicide that was out on the lake, turns out that was literal, they were ice fishing." RK900 blinked as Gavin disappeared from his view, and he stalked over to where Connor and Hank were doing paperwork at their desks. Only then did Hank notice that RK900's usually pristine outfit was a little bit of a mess, and one side of his jacket was soaked. "They'd put too many holes in the ice, it caused a fracture, and Gavin went under. I managed to pull him out, but the damage had already been done. He wouldn't let me take him to a hospital though, despite the risk of pneumonia."  
  
"Sounds like him," Hank muttered. Noticing the forlorn expression on RK900's face, he continued; "Gavin's a tough, stubborn son of a bitch, I'm sure he will be fine."  
  
"I hope you're correct, Lieutenant."  
  
"So was it a homicide?" Connor asked.  
  
"No, it appears accidental," RK900 responded without adding more detail, still clearly distracted.  
  
Connor stood. "I was about to go and get Hank something for dinner-"  
  
"Christ, no more rabbit food-" Hank muttered.  
  
"And I could pick up something for Gavin too, send me his preferences," Connor said.  
  
RK900 nodded, as he pulled off his wet jacket. "I'm sure he would be appreciative of something warm."  
  
Connor's hand rested on RK900's shoulder for a moment. "That tomato basil soup does sound like a good idea."  
  
Hank felt a little lost before he noticed that RK900's LED shifted from yellow to blue. "Get the little packs of crackers too."  
  
"I will," Connor said, leaving them.  
  
RK900 dropped down into Connor's seat. He had a terrible habit of just standing around, and intimidating people without trying. Sitting was a good start at making him slightly less terrifying. Hank liked that RK900 didn't tend to initiate small talk, if he spoke, it was for good reason. That was why Hank jumped in his seat when RK900 suddenly stood up with a sharp bark of, "Lieutenant!"  
  
"What?" Hank snapped back, hand over his heart. A mutter of, 'fucking hell,' under his breath.  
  
"There is a baby outside."  
  
"What?"  
  
A quickly spinning yellow LED flashed a few times on RK900's temple. "A baby, outside, Connor found a baby. The baby was abandoned?" RK900's brows drew low. "Why, in this weather, would someone abandon their child."  
  
"Just get the kid in here."  
  
More yellow, spinning, spinning. "He's afraid to pick up the child."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The baby is very small, Hank." RK900 frowned. "We could damage it."  
  
"For the love of-" Hank was already moving toward the exit.  
  
Once outside he saw Connor crouched over a box in his white shirt, his jacket over the crying baby, trying to keep it warm. Connor looked up at him with fear in his expressive eyes. He knew even humans got a little weary of holding a newborn, so he didn't hold it against two guys who were regularly teased and called 'terminators.'  
  
He just crouched down, plucked the infant from the box, and held the child to his chest. "Hey there, you're alright now,” he promised, all the while remembering holding Cole for the first time. “Let's get you warmed up, okay?"  
  
The two androids followed him back in. Connor's earlier task forgotten about. "Who would abandon their child on Christmas? In this weather? And at the back entrance?"  
  
"Is it alright?" RK900 asked, flinching at some of the kid's louder cries.  
  
Hank doubted the child had actually been out there long, still warm to the touch. The child waved it's little fist and Hank looked around, trying to find somewhere to put the kid down. Ended up, that he put the child down on the seat of his chair, and finally got the kid untangled from Connor's jacket, and the grey blanket it had been wrapped in. The little green onesie wasn't really meant for the cold outdoors, and he frowned at the lack of a jacket.  
  
It wasn't the first child that had been abandoned at a police station, and wouldn't be the last. Never got any less tragic though. Those heartbreaking cries crippled his defenses. He couldn't help but to think of Cole. He undid the little buttons and checked the child for any injuries, but found nothing, checked the diaper, still unsoiled. "Congrats, Connor, you found a baby boy."  
  
"I don't think that is something worthy of congratulations, Lieutenant," Connor mumbled.  
  
"He seems just fine.” He fixed up the buttons, and then cradled the child to his chest, rubbing the baby’s back until the child calmed down a little. The crying stopped after a few minutes, the baby trying to jam his fist into his mouth. “I'll get CPS on the line. One of you hold him."  
  
Connor looked at RK900. RK900 glared at Connor. Both of their LEDs were yellow. Clearly a game of 'I'm not doing it, you do it' was happening, and Hank sighed.  
  
::  
  
"Jesus, I go through the ice, and you can't even make me a coffee, dipshit?" Gavin’s voice carried through the precinct as he weaved his way around the desks. He was wearing a pair of track pants and an old band t-shirt that was an emergency set of clothes RK900 knew Gavin kept in his locker.  
  
"Gavin," RK900 practically sighed the name. "Hold the baby."  
  
"Excuse me?" Gavin, who’d been rubbing his hair with a small towel, pulled it down away from his face, and zeroed in on Hank with the child. "Fuck. On Christmas?" He frowned, but threw the towel over RK900's chair, and made 'gimme' hands at Hank.  
  
"Watch his neck," Hank warned.  
  
"Ah, piss off," Gavin said, carefully cradling the kid. "You call CPS yet?"  
  
"Just about to," Hank said, grabbing his phone.  
  
Gavin shifted the kid to one arm. With one hand free, he walked his fingers along the kids tummy, and then booped the kids nose gently with one finger. He got a spit bubble for his troubles. Gavin seemed happy enough with the baby, repeating the action and getting a little giggle.  
  
RK900 loomed over Gavin's shoulder, watching. "He likes you."  
  
"He's like three months old, they're pretty easy to deal with at this age."  
  
"You have experience with children?" Connor questioned.  
  
"A little,” Gavin shrugged. “Tina has a kid."  
  
“She does?” Hank said.  
  
“Yeah,” Gavin said a bit weary. “T doesn’t advertise it or anything, but yeah.”  He turned RK900, seemed to realize how close the android was and stiffened. “You want to hold him?”  
  
“No,” RK900’s answer was firm. “I’ll just observe.”  
  
Hank shooed them away for a bit of quiet when he greeted someone on the phone.  
  
Gavin had a strange little bounce in his step as he slowly walked away, the movement perhaps instinctive or in someway trained. RK900 had no experience with children, and no protocols to draw from.  
  
The baby had his fist in his mouth, making sucking sounds. “You hungry, kid?” Gavin shifted his hold so the baby rested his head against Gavin’s shoulder. RK900 was struck by an influx of instability warnings while he focussed on Gavin’s wiry arms holding the small child, scarred hands rubbing the baby’s back in soothing little circles. “I think we have some formula in the break room.” He turned to meet RK900’s eyes. “Come on, I need an extra set of hands.”  
  
RK900 followed Gavin around the desks and into the break room. Gavin leaned back slightly, keeping the child to his chest with gravity while he reached up and opened one of the cupboards. His hand returned to the infant’s back. “Up there, do you see it?” he asked RK900.  
  
Unlike Gavin, RK900 didn’t have trouble spotting the plastic container of formula, nor reaching it and the bottle sitting beside it. He gave the date on the container a check, but found that it wouldn’t expire until well into the next year.  
  
“Want me to do it?” Gavin asked.  
  
“I can prepare a bottle, Gavin,” RK900 assured, turning the kettle on.  
  
Gavin chuckled, and leaned his back against the counter. “You just really don’t want to hold the kid.”  
  
RK900 sighed, measuring the precise amount of powdered formula. “You know what I was built for.”  
  
Destruction, the elimination of other androids. He was created to be powerful, to decommission androids who had fallen to deviancy. He was lucky, to be awoken by Connor, that that was never his fate, but he was not created with care in mind.  
  
“Who gives a shit-”  
  
“Gavin!” RK admonished. “Language.”  
  
A little quirk of Gavin’s lips caused a few instabilities, and RK900 quickly returned to his task of warming the water. “You weren’t built for a lot of the things you do, R.”  
  
RK900 poured the water, and set a timer until it would be cool enough. The baby had started to fuss again, still sucking on his fist, angry little whimpers, brows furrowed with displeasure. Gavin; brash, hard-headed, antagonistic Gavin shushed the child with soft tones, hummed softly, pushing away from the counter to sway slightly.  
  
Hank walked in, glanced at the bottle on the counter, then back to Gavin. “CPS says as long as the kid is healthy, they want to wait it out. Roads would be more dangerous than anything right about now.”  
  
“Figures,” Gavin replied. “That bottle done?”  
  
RK900 saw his estimated timer still counting down, but reached out and grabbed it. His sensors picked up the exact temperature. “No, still too hot.”  
  
As if he understood, the child let out a pitiful wail. A mix of short and long cries pierced RK900’s sensors, while Gavin did everything, more swaying, rubbing the baby’s back, bouncing a little as he paced. “Does the precinct have diapers around?” Gavin asked, shifting the child a little, but maintaining the same rocking sway.  
  
“I don’t know, maybe in the first aid room?” Hank guessed, he reached past RK900 to grab the bottle as the final seconds started to tick away on the countdown. He turned the bottle, some of the formula ending up on his wrist. “Here, it’s done. You want to feed him?”  
  
“Nah, you take him,” Gavin said, gently passing the baby over to Hank. “I’ll go downstairs, check the first aid room.”  
  
The baby took to the bottle right away, the silence sudden, and welcome. Hank walked away, with baby in arms looking—  
  
“Looks happy with a kid, doesn’t he?” Gavin mused.  
  
“Content,” RK900 settled finally. “He looks content.”  
  
“He loved Cole more than anything,” Gavin said, as he stepped out of the break room. RK900 followed. “I think if things had been different, he would have had a whole brood of kids.”  
  
“But he only had Cole.”  
  
“Yeah, got married later in life, I think they had some fertility issues. I remember him coming in to the precinct when his wife finally ended up pregnant. I think the only time I saw him happier was when Cole was actually born.” Gavin shoved open the door to the stairwell. “Cole was kind of this miracle child, a beat the odds kind of thing. And when he died-”  
  
The trailing of the sentence got caught up in RK900’s processors. He didn’t quite understand death, and the toll it could take, but anytime he tried to be empathetic, anytime he pre-constructed what his existence would be like without Hank, or Connor, _or Gavin_ , his system threatened to go into a shutdown.  
  
Gavin pushed open the door to the first aid room, and immediately started opening cupboards at random.  
  
::  
  
Connor watched Hank from his chair, their desks facing one another, and he peeked around the screen for a better look at the baby cradled in Hank’s arm, sucking happily on the bottle, rubbing his hand against the bottle, but still too young to get any kind of real grip on it.  
  
“You were a hungry fella, huh?” Hank said.  
  
There was something a little sad in his eyes. Connor understood. He’d seen Cole’s photograph, framed in the living room, another on the bedside table in Hank’s room. That loss was never absent.  
  
Hank set the bottle aside, shifted the baby up, and firmly patted the boy’s back. Hank’s face almost immediately shifted to horror. “He spat up on my shirt.”  
  
Connor attempted to keep a neutral face, but failed. “That is unfortunate.”  
  
Hank shifted the baby away from the mess. “Here, you have to take him, Con.”  
  
“I don’t think that is a good idea,” Connor muttered.  
  
“It’s fine, Christ, the kid ain’t gonna fall apart.” Hank stood, walked the three steps around their desks, and Connor found the child gently placed into his arms. “Just hold him a second while I get changed.”  
  
Connor ceased his breathing protocols. Best not to jostle the baby. The child wiggled a bit, cooed, waved his arms around, eater to get moving. Connor’s hand rested along the flank of the baby, keeping him pinned between that hand, and his own chest. He watched Hank retreat down the hall, it would only be a few minutes, and Gavin and RK900 would likely be back before then anyway.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Connor said. “I was not programmed with child care in mind. Or human care in mind, to be honest.” The baby fussed, wiggling in his arms. He got a hold of Connor’s thumb, and Connor shifted his supporting hand so he could allow the other to go lax. He allowed the child to pull his thumb, to move it this way and that. The baby babbled, a few repeated vowel sounds. The fear of harming the little one was still there, but lessened by the bubbling joy in his chest.  
  
“Found diapers,” Gavin announced as he returned with RK900 in tow. “Where’d Anderson go?”  
  
“The baby spit up on him.”  
  
Gavin laughed, tossing a small pack of diapers onto Hank’s desk. “That’s why I pawned the kid off for feeding time.”  
  
::  
  
Luckily, the terrible weather that kept them at the precinct also seemed to keep the murders non-existent. They spent the rest of the day doing paperwork and pawning the kid off between Hank, Gavin, and Connor, while RK900 appeared intrigued, but remained unwilling to hold the baby. Fowler had came, saw, and then returned to his office so he wouldn’t have to deal with the ‘screaming, shitting machine.’  
  
Currently, the baby was sleeping against Hank’s chest.  
  
Gavin was leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk. “We aught to give the kid a name.”  
  
“You named your cat Lil,” RK900 said, glaring at his partner.  
  
“That isn’t a terrible name,” Connor said, in the detective’s defence.  
  
The cut-eye shifted from Gavin to Connor. “It’s short for Lil’ Shit.”  
  
“Oh,” Connor replied.  
  
Gavin snickered. “Well, we can’t keep calling him ‘kid.’”  
  
“No point in giving him a name,” Hank said. “Once CPS takes him it’ll be out of our hands.”  
  
Gavin frowned, returned his attention to his phone game. “When is CPS going to grace us with their presence.”  
  
“The snow stopped an hour ago. Once the roads are clear, they’ll swing by,” Hank replied. “I doubt it’ll be too much longer.”  
  
Gavin stood, kept looking at his phone, and stalked off to the break room. RK900 waited a minute before following. He stood in the doorway, and watched as Gavin poured himself a cup of coffee. Gavin paused, glanced over, shoulders tense before releasing. “Stop looming.”  
  
“My apologies.” He walked in, and leaned his elbows on the table.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“You appeared upset.”  
  
Gavin shook his head. “The kid’ll be fine.”  
  
“The child appears in great health, yes.”  
  
“I mean after.” Gavin let out a long sigh. “Infants have a high adoption rate.”  
  
“You are concerned that the child won’t be adopted?”  
  
“No, I mean, I don’t know,” Gavin shrugged. “Sometimes kids fall through the cracks of the system. It isn’t perfect.”  
  
“Have you ever given thought to having children?”  
  
“Christ, R!” Gavin poured some hazelnut flavoured creamer in his coffee.  
  
“Have you?” he repeated.  
  
“No. I’m thirty six, unmarried, I smoke a pack a day, and I’ve been both shot and stabbed on the job, not to mention I didn’t have a great father figure growing up. I’m barely a decent honourary-uncle.”  
  
“I think you’d make a better father than you give yourself credit for.” RK900 could actually see Gavin wanting to say something, to make a joke, to deflect, to push the compliment aside.  
  
Gavin turned back to his coffee. “What, you got some kind of daddy kink?”  
  
RK900 rolled his eyes, something he ended up naturally doing after being partnered with Gavin for a month. “You’re insufferable.” He pushed away from the table and turned to walk away.  
  
“R?”  
  
RK900 paused, glanced over his shoulder at Gavin who glared into his coffee, refusing to make eye contact.  
  
“Maybe I want kids. One day. Maybe.”  
  
RK900 tapped his fingertips on the doorway. “Noted.”  
  
::  
  
And when Gavin finally emerged from the break room, coffee in hand, Hank was gently placing the baby into RK900’s hands.  
  
Gavin gripped his coffee a little tighter, RK900’s eyes met his, a soft smile on his face. Gavin’s eyes burned since he didn’t want to blink.  
  
Yeah, he wanted kids.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat about the story, or find other really great fics/ a community of DBH enthusiasts, you're welcome to come join [ Detroit: New ERA ](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) I'm there under the same username ;)


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